


he’s a college student, not a drug dealer mom

by TaeyongsPoorHair



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Biker AU, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Racing, Relationship Problems, Strangers to Lovers, futuristic setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaeyongsPoorHair/pseuds/TaeyongsPoorHair
Summary: Mark Lee wears ripped jeans and a black turtleneck under his leather jacket. His hands are rough and calloused, tainted black around the nail beds and his knuckles barely heal before he tears them open again.He’s the kind of boy his mother has warned his sister about but that doesn’t stop Donghyuck from taking the red helmet, sitting down behind him on the bike and wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist.or: Mark drives way too fast and wears too much leather. Donghyuck never stood a chance.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 94
Kudos: 472





	1. leather jackets and oil stains

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to add a playlist but i'm honestly too tired for it i'm sorry. the fic's done but it's long so i'll post it in three parts. enjoy ^^

The first time he sees Mark, Donghyuck knows he’s trouble.

He sits in his upgraded 69 Volkswagen Beetle and hums along to the soft tunes of [You Wanted More](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpPCD7IZXxE) and static crackling. Tapping along to the beat on the worn leather of the wheel, he looks outside and over the parking lot. People and cars in all shapes and of all ages make their ways through the crowded rows. 

Donghyuck’s breath comes out a little too quickly he allows himself a few moments to drown the excitement of starting a new year in the music blasting from his old speakers

By the time the last notes resound, Donghyuck’s picking up his bag from the seat next to him and turning the volume down. His heart’s still running a little too fast but he figures that won’t change until he sits in the lecture hall and remembers that nothing’s changed other than a few of his teachers maybe.

He takes his keys out of the ignition and shoulders his bag as he closes the bright yellow door. The sun blinds him momentarily as he turns to look over the crowd of people again. Paying no mind to the weird, curious, and sometimes rude looks, Donghyuck locks the car when the chatter around him drowns in the roar of an engine. 

Donghyuck turns in time to see the bike speeding through rows of cars, drawing attention from left and right, even more so than his own old car. It doesn’t slow down, even as it turns left and comes to a halt in the empty slot next to Donghyuck. The breeze pushes the white hood off Donghyuck’s head as he listens to the popping sound of the engine. The biker, clad in black from the glass of his sleek helmet to the soles of his boots, turns the key, silencing the bike. 

Any complaint he has dies on his tongue as the biker swings his leg over the leathern seat and flicks the side stand. He takes his helmet off in one swift motion, revealing a slightly flushed face and high cheek bones. The biker pushes black hair out of his almond shaped, bright eyes and secures the helmet under his arm.

The jacket on his shoulder looks a size or two too big and has one too many silver rivets punched into the dark leather. Ripped black jeans sit lowly on his hips, held in place only by a worn belt and disappear in a pair of laced combat boots.

Donghyuck freezes when he turns and watches him with narrowed eyes. Realizing that he’s blatantly staring, he blinks but his words fail him when the biker raises one brow at him. His blue, icy gaze flies over Donghyuck and he feels weirdly self-conscious in his red Converse but doesn’t flinch.

“Hi,” he says eventually. “I’m Lee Donghyuck.” Donghyuck stretches out his hand. He holds his breath in anticipation, eager to find out this pretty stranger’s name, make a new friend along the way.

The biker stares at the arm in front of him. A harsh frown distorts his soft features.

“I don’t care,” he says and turns away.

Donghyuck watches him leave a little dumbfounded, a little hurt as the thin metal chain around his thigh bumps into the polished shell of his helmet.

  
  


Donghyuck would like to say the encounter from that morning doesn’t bother him, but he frowns through his first class and on the way to lunch. He knows many people, has made friends with half of his year, but Donghyuck’s not one for campus gossip. 

Na Jaemin smiles too brightly and talks too much. He’s also one of Donghyuck’s closest friends and seems to know everything about everyone.

They sit on stupidly uncomfortable chairs in the cafeteria, munching on over cooked French fries when the biker strides through one of the many mahogany doors. He stops by the counter and spends a few minutes typing on the screen, choosing his order. Pushing back the sleeves of his jacket, he reveals a neat silver watch and swipes it across the scanner, double checking his order on the printed receipt shortly after.

The biker pushes the white piece of paper into the pockets of his jacket and looks around. His eyes land on Donghyuck who sits close enough to be caught staring. 

Embarrassed, he looks down to his half eaten serving of fries.

Jaemin, who’s got hawk’s eyes and witnessed everything instead of listening to Jeno rant about his new biochem professor, smiles slyly. Jeno stops midsentence and glances around between his two friends with pinched brows.

“I feel like I missed something,” he says, brows pinched in confusion. 

Donghyuck ignores him and Jaemin in favor of finishing his quickly cooling food.

“Hyuck here was ogling the new transfer student,” Jaemin says. Donghyuck can feel his gaze on him and is sure were he to look up he’d see that knowing glint in his eyes.

“I wasn’t ogling anyone,” he mutters under his breath.

Jaemin rests his head on his palm. “Then I’m sure you don’t wanna know his name.”

Donghyuck knows it’s a trap and walks right into it. “What do you know?” he asks and prepares himself for days of painful teasing.

  
  


Throughout the weeks, Donghyuck catches glimpses of Mark Lee all over campus. Mostly in the morning when he drives into the parking lot as if it were a free highway, sometimes outside in the shadows of a tree during lunch, and sometimes, much to Donghyuck’s surprise, in his marketing class.

The first time he attends it, Donghyuck’s running late.

He runs over a trasher and helps the silver robot back on its feet then leaves it to pick up the trash scattered around them.

Donghyuck plops down in one of the empty seats seconds before the professor switches on the holographic board. Most students have their tablets on the ready, listening to the middle-aged woman on the podium. Donghyuck hurries to get his own stuff out of his bag.

His black electric pen sticks a little too tightly to the side of the tablet and when he finally detaches it from its magnet, he accidentally brushes the arm of his seatmate.

“Sorry,” he says and stills when the bandaged hand moves away from him a few inches, taking the paper notebook, sprawled across the table, with. The name and date of today’s lecture are written in neat, cursive handwriting on the very first line. It’s been a while since Donghyuck’s seen an old school bullet point pen, but he has no time to marvel at the silver design as he feels someone’s eyes on him.

Donghyuck looks up to see a pair of clear, blue eyes resting above high cheeks. 

“Hi,” Donghyuck breathes, dumbfounded by the fact that he’s sitting right next to Mark and staring. “You should smile more or you’ll get wrinkles,” he says before he can think better of it and points at Mark’s forehead and the frown wrinkling his skin.

Mark’s eyes darken–Donghyuck swears they turn grey, like the sea on a stormy day, his brain unhelpfully provides–as he squints. “Do I know you?” Mark asks, voice quiet but harsh.

“I don’t think so?” Donghyuck replies hesitantly.

“Then why do you keep talking to me?” 

Donghyuck frowns, because _wow, rude_. He doesn’t answer, listens to the professor highly insisting they purchase the syllabus and recommending a few other text books, that Donghyuck dutifully takes note off to download later all the while ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach and Mark’s presence to his side.

  
  


It’s annoying how badly their first official meeting went and how much it bothers Donghyuck. He tries not to think about it too much as he passes Mark in the hallways or when their eyes meet in class and Mark looks away with pinched eyebrows. 

A few weeks into the new semester, Donghyuck finds himself in the library researching for his music history essay when he spots Mark sitting at one of the few empty tables. His bag and helmet sit next to a cup of tasteless dark brew they call coffee around here. He’s scribbling something into one of his note books and scratching at the mostly dried scab on his knuckles. A seemingly fresh cut runs over his arm almost all the way to the rolled-up sleeves of Mark’s red flannel shirt.

A pair of earbuds are plugged in and the heavy sound of a 2010 metal band resonates all the way to the shelf Donghyuck’s currently hiding behind. The books, mostly there for aesthetic purposes and a few rare book users, are dusty and he feels a sneeze tickling his nose.

Taking a deep breath, he steps out of the shadows and pulls an empty chair back. Mark doesn’t look up–Donghyuck’s not sure he even noticed his arrival–and he takes it as an invitation to sit. The quiet chatter around them is not loud enough to be a serious distraction–Mark takes up most of his attention anyway, even if it’s just from the corner of his eye–still he decides to take out his own earphones, connects his wristwatch and starts one of his study playlists.

He’s worked out a third of his essay when he catches Mark looking at him from the corner of his eyes. At first, he tries to ignore it but grows uncomfortable soon enough. Donghyuck turns away from the holographic screen floating above the edge of his tablet to meet Mark’s eyes.

The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down his spine. Donghyuck’s mouth falls slightly open and he wishes he’d picked up that sweatshirt like his mom told him. At least then he’d be able to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

Seconds tick by on the lower corner of his screen. Either of them are yet to make a sound. Donghyuck’s not sure whether he should say something or not. Last he tried, Mark didn’t appreciate his attempt at a conversation. 

However, it’s not like Donghyuck to hesitate this much when trying to befriend people. He takes a deep breath. The worst that could happen is Mark either telling him to piss off or pissing off himself and Donghyuck’s sure his pride can take both.

“Hi,” he says, lamely, after lowering the volume of [Loving You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDnz7oJv18E). 

Mark blinks and Donghyuck’s preparing himself for another “ _Why are you talking to me?”_ but it doesn’t come.

“Hi,” Mark replies quietly and then turns back to his notes on quantum physics.

That could’ve gone better.

It could’ve also gone worse.

Donghyuck smiles, because despite the lack of actual getting to know him, Mark hasn’t looked irritated or put off by him. That’s enough progress to have him smiling until Renjun texts him, informing Donghyuck of his cravings for pizza and ice cream. 

Donghyuck leaves not without catching Mark’s eyes, who even nods at his quiet _bye_.

  
  


Donghyuck frequently finds himself going to the library to study. Or pretend to study anyway. Mark rarely talks save for their greetings and farewells, but Donghyuck’s positive an opportunity will present itself sooner or later. In the meanwhile, he tries not to think too much about why Mark still uses pen and paper, when everyone else uses far more advanced technology provided by their school. It’s easier to work on the pdf versions of their textbooks than to carry around the ridiculous amount of folders that Mark somehow still fits into his backpack.

He pushes aside any question as soon as it pops up instead of asking straight away like he’s used to, even though he’d really love to know where he got his bike from. He doesn’t know much about motorcycles but that model has been off the market for almost a century, not unlike his own car.

There’s also why Mark’s always alone, although that he might have an answer to, given Mark’s abrasive attitude towards strangers. 

Donghyuck wants to know why he keeps coming to class with bruised hands and really, what’s up with all the metal?

Donghyuck wants to get behind that poker face and harsh frown but tells himself to wait until Mark decides to open a door for him. A window will do too, honestly.

He doesn’t have to wait for too long. They get paired up for a group project a month into the semester and while Donghyuck isn’t particularly fond of his marketing class, he silently thanks god for sharing Mark’s last name and his teacher’s laziness.

Donghyuck doesn’t even try to hide his smile before catching up to Mark after the lesson.

“So, when do you wanna do this?” he asks, holding his bag in his hands and zipping it up as Mark searches the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Thursday?” 

“Works for me. At the library, then? Or do you wanna meet up–“

“Same spot as always.” Mark finally finds his keys in the front pocket of his jeans and throws him a short glance. “3 pm. Don’t be late.”

With that he rushes through the next door to the parking lot, helmet halfway up to his head. Donghyuck smiles all the way to Jaemin’s dorm who eyes Donghyuck suspiciously but gets too involved with their mario kart race to remember asking him about it.

  
  


Thursday comes and Donghyuck feels jittery, which he blames on his double espresso and refuses to associate with Mark. Jaemin, of course, calls bullshit when he almost drops his guitar twice on the way to lunch and Renjun rolls his eyes when he goes into a detailed rant on why his nerves are completely justified.

When he gets to the library, Mark’s already sitting at their table, armed with two highlighters and a bunch of different colored post-it notes. Donghyuck almost goes for his usual chair, two seats over from Mark’s, before he remembers that this is a group project, meaning they’re supposed to work on this _together_ which will prove difficult if they have to whisper over the table.

He takes the chair right next to Mark and waits until the latter takes out his earbuds. Mark drops them on the table and the music, still coming through, reminds Donghyuck of that band his mother used to listen to when she was fifteen.

“Hi,” Donghyuck greets him, flashing his most charming smile and leaning into Mark’s space a little more than strictly necessary. He can’t help himself though seeing how Mark’s eyes widen and he looks away to play with the pen in his hands. 

“Ready?” Donghyuck asks, full of enthusiasm, ignoring the _why are your nails stained black around the beds_ floating around in his head. 

“Yes, let’s get this over with,” Mark murmurs and throws the pastel highlighters into his pencil case. He’s reaching for the post-its when Donghyuck’s eyes fall onto the small motives on the notes and it takes most (all) of his will power not to combust on the spot. He grabs the film before Mark gets to it and examines the little donuts and cats.

“I really didn’t peg you as the type to like cute stuff like this, ” Donghyuck says trying not to show how adorable it is in fear of stepping out of line too much.

Mark’s eyes narrow in on the post-its and then snatches the notes out of Donghyuck'a hand. “They restock once every two months and those were the only ones left,” Mark explains calmly as he puts the film into the open notebook on the side and closes it promptly. The white notebook cover is adorned with little cacti and Donghyuck stores that bit of information in the _to cry over later_ part of his brain.

“Why do you use pen and paper anyway? Using clouds and tablets is way more practical, dude,” Donghyuck asks as he pulls out his own device and looks for his marketing folder. 

Mark says something under his breath and Donghyuck barely catches it.

“What was that?”

Mark sighs heavily and replaces the white notebook with a red one. Donghyuck catches the sketch of a car on its cover but doesn’t comment on it. “I said, I can’t study with them.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I’ve studied with actual text _books_ all my life. Switching to tablets isn’t easy and I almost failed chemistry in my first year because I couldn’t find my notes on that damn thing.” Mark makes a vague motion towards the tablet in front of Donghyuck and frowns but the tips of his ears are burning red. Donghyuck swallows a mocking comment about Mark's lack of technological skills. He isn’t about to ruin the first proper conversation they ever had.

“I could you show sometime,” he offers instead. Mark raises an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Why would you do that?”

“To help out a…friend?” Donghyuck says hoping Mark won’t bite his head off for assuming amicability. 

Mark looks at him as if he’s trying to read his mind and Donghyuck almost believes he can with his piercing eyes. “That would be nice, I suppose,” Mark says eventually and Donghyuck allows himself to breathe.

By the time the library closes up, they have done little research for their assignment but Mark has found his long-lost chemistry notes.

  
  


One sunny day, Donghyuck rushes through the halls of the Arts and Music building. Guitar thrown over his shoulder and tablet still in his hands, he tries to fish his student ID out of his back pocket to open the door in front of him. He’s running late and Jaemin will kill him if the line to the hot dog truck gets too long. 

Donghyuck contemplates sprinting the last bit, then spots a familiar leather jacket in the shadows of a tree near a white fountain inspired by the 18th century and decides he’s not all that hungry before texting his friends to go ahead without him. 

Mark’s leaning against the stem, scribbling something into a notebook. A white cap sits low on his head, covering most of his face and he doesn’t notice Donghyuck until the latter plops down onto the soft grass next to Mark and peeks a glance. 

“What are you writing?” Donghyuck asks as his guitar falls to the ground next to him and he turns to catch it.

“Nothing.” Mark closes his notebook swiftly

Donghyuck raises one brow, expectantly, but Mark doesn’t falter and puts it away, out of Donghyuck’s reach, keeping his face tilted to the side .

“It’s personal,” he says, when Donghyuck keeps staring at him. 

Any other person would have gotten the hint, but Donghyuck’s known for pushing a little too much, ignoring one too many boundary.

“Can I read it?”

“What part of it’s personal did you not understand?” Mark replies, voice dangerously low and Donghyuck really should drop it if he wants to keep this fragile friendship. They sit in silence for a while 

“Is it like a diary?”

“None of your business,” Mark says, throwing his hands up exasperatedly and turns to stare at him, one eye swollen and painted blue.

Donghyuck’s seen bruises before. He’s had his fair share when he was a kid with too much energy to simply sit at home. Then there’s all the movies he’s watched with Renjun who lives by _the gorier, the better_. But seeing a blue eye an arm’s length away, has Donghyuck’s breath caught in his throat. 

Mark realizes his mistake before Donghyuck, recovers from the shock, and pulls his cap lower. 

“What happened?” Donghyuck asks and raises his hand hesitantly, but Mark jerks away.

“Ran into a door.” He pauses. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Donghyuck’s not an expert, but he knows doors don’t leave bruises of _that_ shape. “Did you have it looked at?” he asks, instead of prying, having learned his lesson for the day.

“I told you not to worry, didn’t I?” He gets to his feet, grabbing his bag and helmet in the process. 

Donghyuck frowns at the sight of the, yet again, bruised hands. He can’t help but reach out, and curl his fingers around Mark’s lower arm. 

“I have a first aid kit in my car. Let me at least fix up your hands.”

Mark’s quiet but his _why_ hangs heavily in the air between them. 

“I promise, I won’t ask any questions.”

Mark narrows his eyes suspiciously but sighs eventually. 

“Fine.”

Donghyuck smiles. “Great,” he says, grabbing Mark’s hands and pulling him forwards, mindful of the open wounds. 

The parking lot is void of people save for a few couples, one of which takes public display of affection to an entirely different level. 

Mark ignores them. So does Donghyuck, who’s trying not to think about how easily their hands seem to fit together and the warmth spreading to his stomach. 

His car sticks out like a sore thumb. Not only is it obnoxiously bright, but also an old-timer. His dad had bought it when Donghyuck had just started standing on his own two feet as a toddler and taken good care of it.

Its old engine didn’t hold up for too long, so he installed a new one. The bumper broke off once and his father had spent almost a year driving to different junkyards and looking for a new one. He found it eventually, but it was of a light blue and Donghyuck’s dad never got around to repainting it, when he died a few months into Donghyuck’s junior year of high school. 

His mother wasn’t sure what to do with the car at first but Donghyuck had begged her not to sell it. No one would pay more than a few hundred bucks for a car from the last century and Donghyuck felt like selling it would have been a big, nice _fuck you_ to his father’s efforts. 

Instead he kept the yellow bug, with the baby blue bumper, ignoring the glances and snide remarks. 

“Your car’s more than trouble than it’s worth,” Mark says as he waits for Donghyuck to find his keys. While he’s used to unwanted comments, Donghyuck can’t deny it stings a little to hear them from Mark. 

“Yeah, well. It was my dad’s, and your ride isn’t much younger.” Donghyuck opens the door and reaches into the compartment, while Mark ignores the jab at his beloved bike. “Come, sit down,” he tells Mark and presses his body slightly against the door making room for Mark to get past him and sit down on the driver’s seat. 

Donghyuck kneels in front of him, carefully opening the orange bag. A flood of Winnie Pooh band aids land on his lap, some on the ground. He hears Mark huff, a stream of air fans past his ears and Donghyuck looks up, holding one in his hands not embarrassed in the slightest.

Donghyuck removes the white paper on the back and reaches out to push back Mark’s sleeve, revealing the mostly healed cut from the other week. Mark follows his fingers, as he places the band aid horizontally to the wound and brushes over it to make sure it stays in place. 

“There,” he says, meeting Mark’s eyes that seem to glisten in the sun. “All better.”

“Ridiculous,” Mark scoffs and Donghyuck agrees looking at the cross he made on his arm. Doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it.

“Now, your hands.” Donghyuck looks through the overflowing bag for antiseptic and cotton pads. 

Mark doesn’t even flinch when he takes his hands once again and carefully dabs the pad onto the teared skin. Donghyuck focuses on the task at hand to the best of his abilities and doesn’t notice, not at all, how nice Mark’s slender fingers feel resting on his palm.

  
  


Thursday, Mark’s hands are still wrapped but he’s lost the Winnie Pooh band aid. 

They work on their parts of the assignment in silence as students come and go. Mark stands up twice to refill his coffee and Donghyuck watches him back at their table as Mark pours an unhealthy amount of sugar into the cup to give it some kind of taste that isn’t awful.

“What?” Mark asks the third time he’s caught Donghyuck staring at the beverage as if it’s insulted his mother.

“You know there’s this coffee shop. It’s affordable, delicious and super cute.” Donghyuck says and feels his mouth go dry when Mark raises an eyebrow at him almost expectantly.

“My treat,” he blurts out in panic, forgetting something about this whole asking someone out for coffee thing.

“I mean, if you’d like to go and see for yourself, I’d gladly show you and it would be my treat.” 

“Why?” is not the response Donghyuck has hoped for but it’s also not a no.

Donghyuck bites his lip, unsure of whether it’s wise to be truthful, unwilling to ruin what little relationship they have built. “Because I wanna take you out,” he replies.

“Why?”

Donghyuck feels a little lost as to what the point of that question is. 

“Because I wanna get to know you?” The brunette hates how unsure he sounds. 

Mark frowns at that then looks at the paper cup to his right. He must be really sick of the library coffee because, eventually, he agrees. “Okay,” he says simply and Donghyuck can’t quite believe it.

“Really?” 

“Yes.”

He beams when Mark turns away to hide his flushed cheeks.

  
  


They go on their coffee date a week later. 

Donghyuck puts on a baby pink, loosely fitting dress shirt with short, wide sleeves and dabs a little bit of glitter on his eyelids before leaving for school that morning. He meets Mark for lunch under the tree near the fountain and then Mark leads him to the parking lot and his bike where he throws him a spare helmet.

Donghyuck hesitates, eyeing the black bike suspiciously. 

Donghyuck’s mother told him to stay away from boys with leather jackets and bruised hands and to never agree to a ride with them.

To be fair, that’s the talk his sister had to sit through but he figures it applies to him by extension. 

Mark Lee wears ripped jeans and a black turtleneck under his leather jacket. His hands are rough and calloused, tainted black around the nail beds and his knuckles barely heal before he tears them open again.

He’s the kind of boy his mother has warned his sister about but that doesn’t stop Donghyuck from taking the red helmet, sitting down behind him on the bike and wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist.

The ride is exhilarating. Mark drives like he always does. As if alone on his bike, he speeds through the parking lot and Donghyuck grips tighter for fear of falling off pressing his head against Mark’s firm back. 

Gradually he gets used to the speed and dares to open his eyes. The world flies by in a blur of colors. Cars honk after them, offended when they pass them by, and Donghyuck can’t help but laugh when he catches the baffled looks of pedestrians as they race across crosswalks. 

It’s over too quickly. The GPS built into Mark’s helmet announces they’ve arrived in a friendly robotic voice that Donghyuck barely hears over the sounded of his pounding heart. He takes his helmet off as soon as Mark flips the side stand. 

“That was awesome,” he breathes, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. 

He thinks Mark agrees with him, but can’t be sure. Mark’s words are muffled by the helmet still shielding his head. Donghyuck doesn’t trust his legs to not give in under his own weight, so he waits for Mark to stand first, who then finally removes his helmet. 

“It’s even better on without the seventy limitations.” Mark’s voice cracks towards the end, but Donghyuck can tell it’s because of the same excitement that’s cursing through his own veins.

“Will you show me?” Donghyuck asks feeling a little daring.

Mark flushes, mutters something underneath his breath that suspiciously sounds like a yes, and then walks towards the coffee shop. 

There he finds out that Mark doesn’t even drink coffee and has been making himself tea at the library for months.

  
  


They finish their assignment but keep meeting up at the old library to study in companionable silence. Donghyuck invites him to another cup of tea, now that he knows better and soon enough, he doesn’t have to ask anymore. 

Mark doesn’t talk much at first, seems fine listening to Donghyuck ramble about god and the world, but isn’t shy about voicing his opinions every now and then. Donghyuck learned that the hard way when he suggested they order pineapple pizza for lunch.

During their many study and coffee dates, Donghyuck catches Mark staring at him sometimes, eyebrows narrowed as if he’s looking for something but doesn’t know what. He catches him with that same look on his face, while they’re waiting for their orders and his curiosity gets the best of him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks and chuckles nervously. It unnerves him whenever Mark does this, especially when he stands there tall and quiet, like an elf from middle earth trying to unlock the secrets if his soul with his icy stare.

“Why are you here?” he asks back and Donghyuck holds back an eye roll.

“I’m really not in the mood for a philosophical debate, Lee.”

Mark raises one unimpressed brow. “Why are you here with me?”

“Because I really like going on coffee dates with you.”

Mark narrows his eyes and leans in slightly. “And why would you like that?”

Donghyuck laughs, trying not to step back, but waves his hands in the air to remind his racing heart of the slight, but present physical distance between them. 

He mutters something, but Mark doesn’t quite catch it and asks Donghyuck to repeat himself. Donghyuck breathes, feeling frustrated, but says, “Cause I’m interested in you.”

“Why?”

“It’s always _why this, why that_ with you, Mark,” Donghyuck sighs, turning to the counter, hoping his coffee would arrive soon, he really needed something to distract himself from burning cheeks. Their drinks are ready and Donghyuck moves to get them. “I don’t know why. I just am,” he says, shoving Mark’s tea into his hand. “There’s no rationality to attraction.”

Donghyuck turns and walks out of the cute coffee shop, not sure how much longer he could keep it together with the heat climbing up his neck. When Mark catches up with him, he drapes his jacket over Donghyuck’s shoulders, after seeing him shudder in the autumn wind. It smells like motor oil and Donghyuck finds himself getting addicted to it.

  
  


Donghyuck keeps his hand on the strap of his backpack as he takes a look around. Mark’s studio is simple and small. The kitchen corner is neatly kept, water drops run down plates and glasses. There’s a closet on one wall next to the door to the bathroom. Books stand and lie on a rack above the desk in the corner, next to the spacious window and blue dotted mattress on the floor beneath it.

Then Donghyuck’s eyes land on the old, barely used classical piano.

They settle on the bed that’s drowning in pillows but the sheets are clean and Mark doesn’t care. The afternoon sun is partly dimmed by his blinds, but Donghyuck’s smile lights the room brighter than all of his second-hand lamps together. The sight has something warm blooming in Mark’s chest and he can’t help but nod when Donghyuck asks if he could come over again to practice his rusty piano skills, even though it’s out of tune and he could easily find a more suitable, modern version on campus.

Donghyuck, in his black and green striped shirt with long sleeves, fits into Mark’s home easily. He props a pillow against the heater that Mark keeps around for aesthetic purposes rather than thermic, since all the flats in the building have floor heating and are isolated, to withstand even the coldest of winters.

Mark sits legs crossed on the other corner, spreading his worksheets and textbooks out while Donghyuck gets his tablet out. After a while, Donghyuck eyes the room again, taking in every detail as if it’s the last time he’ll ever see it and then finds a framed picture near the bed of a younger Mark in his graduation gown, next to a middle-aged woman.

“Is that your mother?” he asks and Mark looks up in surprise, as if he’s forgotten he wasn’t alone. His eyes follow Donghyuck’s electric pen.

“My aunt,” he replies, voice a little stiff. “My parents died in a car crash, when I was six.”

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” Sometimes Donghyuck hates his curiosity.

Mark blinks a few times, then turns back to his text book and highlighter. “It’s fine,” he says, gaze fixed on the pages in front of him. “I barely remember them anyway and my aunt took good care of me.”

Donghyuck hums and looks at the picture. The woman is a head shorter, than Mark. Her hair falls around a round face in brown curls, and kind eyes stare back at the camera accompanied by a proud smile.

“Doesn’t mean it’s fine,” Donghyuck argues quietly.

“I don’t want your pity,” Mark suddenly snaps, gripping his tri-colored pen tightly.

“I’m not pitying you.”

Mark gives him a blank stare, not quite convinced.

“There’s a difference between pity and empathy,” Donghyuck tries, but that, too, doesn’t help his case.

“Yeah, one’s got a few more letters but its basically the same thing.”

Donghyuck shakes his head, sensing this conversation won’t be going anywhere. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he says softly. “If you don’t want to.”

“Okay,” Mark replies, a little too quickly. “I don’t.” 

Donghyuck drops the topic.

Later Mark asks Donghyuck to stay for dinner. 

They nearly forget the library after that day.

  
  


Donghyuck has spent most of his life with noise. His father’s laugh was loud and shook the dinner table. His sister is annoying and loves to rile him up. Donghyuck has many thoughts to share and does it without being asked. His friends were every bit as troublesome as him and terrorized the small neighborhood he grew up in.

Donghyuck’s not used to silence. He loves to fill it with words and laughter, because it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth more often than not.

Mark is quiet. Donghyuck knew it when he started pestering the biker at the library but found out over time that it wasn’t only because of his shyness. It was distressing at first to sit in silence on Mark’s bed for so long he started getting distracted by it. 

What if Mark didn’t actually want him there and Donghyuck was being a bother. It’s stupid; Mark has been the one to invite him over and bring him back after, still Donghyuck couldn’t stop himself from blurting “You’re so quiet,” one evening while they worked on their assignments and Mark’s tensed a little as if Donghyuck had insulted him. 

“I don’t always have something to say,” Mark replied, voice slightly strained and Donghyuck understood that it was just part of who he was. Mark didn’t talk much and wouldn’t share his thoughts unless asked to and that was it. 

So, Donghyuck had made it his mission to make sure Mark knew he would listen to every insignificant thing he has to share, but first he had reassured Mark that, “That’s, okay. I don’t mind,” with a convincing smile.

Donghyuck’s grown to appreciate the quiet atmosphere of Mark’s flat because silence with Mark feels comfortable, like coming home from a long day at work. Like warm blankets in front of the fire place with steaming hot chocolate during the winter holidays.

  
  


Mark, Donghyuck concludes after midterms end, doesn’t get out much. It’s the same old school-home routine for him with occasional breaks at the coffee shop or work, which he never tells Donghyuck much about.

Donghyuck makes it his mission to have Mark socialize more. Mark doesn’t have many friends on campus. None actually, other than Donghyuck. _“I’m friends with Yukhei,”_ Mark argued, but they had talked twice and it was over an electronics homework, so “ _That doesn’t count,”_ Donghyuck replied.

He starts with introducing Mark to his own friends. Mark seems wary at first, but Jaemin lures him in with Oreo ice cream and there’s no coming back from that sort of bonding experience.

Mark joins Donghyuck with his friends for lunch from then on, occasionally. Sometimes he prefers to drive home for a quick bite when the noises on campus turns out to be too much and he needs some time off before taking on chem 3. 

Donghyuck sees that as progress. He likes seeing Mark break out of his shell little by little, like when he offers to help Jeno out with calculus or go see that movie with Renjun when no one else can. Mark seems less intimidating, Jaemin admits but Donghyuck doesn’t tell him how stupidly happy he feels because Mark smiles more when it’s only the two of them.

The blood and bruises don’t fade though.

Donghyuck’s lazing around on Mark’s bed, procrastinating yet another essay, when he gets an idea and turns to look at Mark who’s elbow deep in calculations.

“Hey. Mark,” he calls when he realizes that Mark’s fully focused on the problem at hand. “There’s a party this Friday.”

“That’s great, Hyuck.” Mark doesn’t look up from his calculator, instead frowns when he gets the wrong answer.

“Do you wanna be my plus one?”

His hand slips and Mark curses at the black line between his integrations and derivatives . “I don’t like parties,” he offers simply and then looks for white out in his pencil case. 

Donghyuck groans, having expected that answer he tries to bait Mark into agreeing. “You’re no fun at all, Mark Lee.”

“Not true. We just have very different definitions of fun, is all,” Mark explains, carefully writing down the details of his next problem. “Yours just happens to include alcohol and bad music.”

“Says you, Mister I’m-still-not-over-my-Black-Veil-Brides-phase.”

Mark huffs. “It’s not a phase, it’s a lifestyle.”

Donghyuck grins, but gives in. “Fine then,” he says. “Show me _your_ definition of fun.”

Mark looks up, eyes pensive. “Fine then,” he mimics. “Friday night, 9 pm. Don’t be late.”

  
  


_Something comfortable,_ Mark’s message read and usually that wouldn’t be a problem. Donghyuck’s wardrobe had plenty of comfortable items, but Mark is a man of few, very few, words and didn’t tell him what kind of comfortable he needed to dress.

Was it a _movie night with self-made, burnt popcorn_ or _walk in the park with ice cream for late dinner_ kind of comfortable. Jeans would be acceptable for the latter, but an absolute pain for the former and Donghyuck is tempted to go to the room next door and ask his sister. Then he remembers that his sister is an absolute tattle tale who would inevitably tell his mother and that’s a conversation he doesn’t need to have tonight.

He needs to hurry if he doesn’t want to sit through another one of Mark’s lectures on punctuality and decides on a pair of washed out jeans, a two-piece hoodie with a rainbow print and an oversized denim jacket. On his way out he tells his mom not to wait up for him, grabs his keys and wallet and slams the door shut.

November brings stripped trees and cold nights. The old heating of his car is just starting to fully kick in when he’s driving into an empty parking slot a few blocks away from Mark’s building. The streets are dark and the wind bites his cheeks, coloring them in a soft shade of pink. Donghyuck hurries to get inside and quietly knocks at the studio door.

Mark lets him in wearing a grey turtle neck with a pair of black jeans. One silver earring shines under unkempt hair and he’s missing a sock, Donghyuck notices when he looks down because, wow, Mark’s really going around looking good like that. He should be used to that by now, because Mark looks good even when he wakes up with drool on the corner of his lips and ink stains from his notebooks on his cheeks, but this is a _date_ and he’s suddenly very aware of that fact. 

“You’re early,” Mark states lamely, as he searches through his drawer. 

“You threatened to kill me if I was late,” Donghyuck throws back and looks around. 

There are open textbooks and sketches–so many sketches–shattered on the desk and the mess leaves Donghyuck’s fingertips itching, but he doesn’t give in knowing that there’s order to Mark’s disorder. 

“That never happened,” Mark counters, feigning innocence

On the very top of the pile lie the blue prints of an engine that he’s seen floating around the studio. Underneath he finds the design of a new bike. Pastel green tear drops cover the fuel tank and Donghyuck lets his fingers glide over the edges. It looks softer, smaller than Mark’s other bikes. There’s less explosive passion to it, more of gentle caring.

Donghyuck stares in awe as Mark puts his sock on. 

He comes to stand next to Donghyuck to grab his jacket from the chair, then sees the drawing in Donghyuck's hands and rubs his neck self-consciously. 

“It’s not- That’s only a draft,” he says, then softly takes it from Donghyuck’s hands and pulls his jacket over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s go.”

Donghyuck spares one last look to the bike thrown to the side of the desk and follows Mark thinking he wouldn’t mind buying a bike like that. 

Mark locks the door behind them, then gives Donghyuck his spare helmet. 

Like every time before, Donghyuck’s heart spikes at the thought of getting on the bike behind Mark again. He loves the rush of adrenaline as Mark accelerates and the world flies by in a blur of colors, though he’d never admit that for fear of encouraging his dangerous driving habits. There’s also the physical proximity that Mark rarely ever allows and that Donghyuck makes sure to enjoy every second of. 

The GPS leads them to the outskirts of the city. They leave the fuming factories behind and rush past endless fields, ready to be harvested. 

The sun has long since disappeared and Donghyuck has rarely ever left the city in his short twenty years but he trusts Mark not to murder him somewhere in the dark and leave his rotting body behind, never to be seen again. He decides to stop worrying and enjoy the ride, resting his head between Mark’s shoulder blades. 

He looks up when Mark starts slowing down, approaching colorful lights that stand out like a sore thumb in the darkness. People, cars, and motorbikes are scattered around a flat area serving as a temporary parking lot. An old wooden hut kept in extraordinarily good shape is up ahead. The air vibrates with heavy music, that roars over the chatting crowd and Donghyuck feels like he’s entered a scene from a movie. 

Donghyuck’s still sitting, taking in the sight of all the colors and people and, wow, he really didn’t know you could spike your hair that way. Mark holds out his hand for Donghyuck to take and helps him off the bike. 

What was once an incredibly small house has been transformed into a bar with a wide betting pool hanging above the bartenders' heads. The numbers on the screen change every few seconds and Donghyuck is about to ask what they’re betting about when he sees the bleachers with view on a track carved into grassland.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, kid?” the man behind the counter asks as Mark approaches and orders two sodas. The bright red of his hair matches the color of his eyes. A scar runs through his eyebrow which he raises when Mark stares at him defiantly. 

“No, however the nursery just called. They’re missing a grandpa.”

The red head rolls his eyes, throws Donghyuck a look that he can’t quite read then turns to get their drinks out of the fridge. 

“Make sure he stays out of trouble,” the bartender says, looking at Donghyuck expectantly.

“I’m trying but I don’t think anything I say gets through that thick skull,” he replies and the red head smiles.

“I like you,” he says and introduces himself, since Mark’s too busy looking for his phone. “Lee Taeyong.” 

“Lee Donghyuck,” Donghyuck replies. 

Taeyong smirks. “Would you look at that another Lee. Minhyung really knows how to pick his friends.”

“Stop meddling, old man,” Mark swipes the screen over a scanner on the counter, then quickly grabs Donghyuck’s arm and drags him away from the bar. 

“He doesn’t seem that old,” Donghyuck smiles when Mark doesn’t let go and lets his hand slide down to meet Donghyuck’s to shield it from the cold. 

“Don’t let it fool you, he’s ancient. He hasn’t changed a bit in all the ten years I’ve known him. Who knows how old he really is.”

They reach the bleachers and take a seat on the bottom row, where they drink in silence as people pull their bikes to the starting line or settle down behind them. 

“So, who are you betting on?” Donghyuck asks wiping the condensation off the glass, secretly hoping they had ordered tea instead.

“They’re not here yet,” is all Mark offers then pushes his bottle into Donghyuck’s hands. “Hold this for me, please?” he says and Donghyuck nods, thinking he’ll be right back. 

People start gathering on the track. Bikes of all shapes and colors are dragged to the starting line by their owners, some clad in protective gear matching the extravagance of their bikes. Some stand in their ripped jeans and faux leather jackets like they’re about to go grocery shopping. 

Some of them are Mark.

  
  


Mark pushes his bike forward and stops a few inches before the faded white line. Donghyuck catches him wink before putting the sleek helmet on. Keeping his hands lazily on the handlebar, Mark sits on the seat, back straight, feet on the ground. Donghyuck can’t bring himself to look away. Not when Mark looks like nothing could shake him. It’s mesmerizing how comfortably confident Mark sits on the leathern seat as if it’s where he is always meant to be. It probably is, Donghyuck thinks, remembering the stories Mark has told him of how he found the bike abandoned on the side of the road as a twelve years old boy and how he bought the missing pieces with his monthly allowance from a nearby junkyard.

It’s not long until the remaining participants line up next to Mark and a guy limps to the middle of the track announcing the rules. The crowd on the bleachers cheers as he lists every participants nickname. the bikers let their engines growl one by one basking in the attention.

He’s sure Mark’s still looking at him, when the announcer yells his name–no stupidly embarrassing nickname, just plain _Mark_ –into the mic if the way his head’s inclined is any indicator and Donghyuck barely hears the remaining names. 

The countdown starts.

A gun fires.

Mark’s bike roars as he speeds ahead.

It’s exhilarating.

Donghyuck’s not even driving but seeing Mark lean into curves dangerously fast has his blood rushing in his ears. Everyone’s in it for the first place, going at murderous speed and Donghyuck can’t help but stand and cheer every time Mark passes one of the contestants, drinks long forgotten.

Mark’s fifth when they go into the final round but leaves the lady on a cerulean Kawasaki in the dust as they pass the line. He catches up to third place right before the first curve and then fights the other two for first place.

Approaching the finishing line Mark falls behind if only by half a foot.

Donghyuck balls his hands into tight fists but pays his white knuckles no mind as he holds his breathe.

Right before the line he accelerates one last time coming in second place.

Donghyuck can’t remember the last time he’s screamed from the top of his lungs in pure joy. Wasting no time Donghyuck pushes past the celebrating crowd and runs straight over to the track. 

Mark came to a halt forty meters past the line and had just removed his helmet when Donghyuck slows just enough as to not topple Mark to the ground as he wraps his hands around him. Mark stumbles backwards despite Donghyuck’s effort but recovers quickly, slowly returning the embrace.

Donghyuck breathes in the faint smell of motor oil that follows Mark like a shadow. 

“That was amazing,” he says breathlessly, stepping back, arms falling to Mark’s waist never letting go. “I’ve never seen anything like that, you looked like you were floating. No wait, that’s not right. Like you could take off if you’d just reach out–”

Donghyuck rambles on, it’s mostly incoherent thoughts strung together into sentences, but Mark’s eyes are shining brightly as he looks down with the faintest of smiles. The leftover adrenaline rush pushes him to cup Donghyuck’s cheek in a gloved hand shutting the latter up effectively.

The music and cries of the crowd behind Donghyuck’s back fade into the background as Mark leans in and closes the distance between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're confused by the world building dw so am i :)


	2. long drives and gingerbread cookies

The kiss doesn’t change much. It was short and sweet and Donghyuck enjoyed it very much, but it was just that, a simple kiss. Maybe Donghyuck’s being a little–okay, a lot–old fashioned, but no confession followed and Mark never asked if they should take their friendship to the next level.

Still, _something_ has changed. Donghyuck sees it when he catches Mark staring while he’s playing on the piano and doesn’t look away immediately. Hears it when Mark openly laughs at his old jokes instead of muffling the low chuckles with his fist. Feels it when Mark holds on to his hand even after leaving the crowded hallways, on the way to the parking lot where they wouldn’t lose sight of each other if they tried.

He loves that Mark feels comfortable enough to rest his head on Donghyuck’s lap when they watch a movie together and even lets him comb through his soft black hair.

They don’t put a label on what they have, even if it complicates things when Jaemin and Jeno grill him for details. He doesn’t expect anything either, is happy to let things go at Mark’s pace and enjoy the time they have together. 

Then Mark gives him a peck before walking Donghyuck downstairs on Tuesday. And when he explains the concepts Donghyuck missed in their marketing class after getting thrown out of the lecture as they’re hunched over Mark’s messy desk, he stops midsentence to look at him for a minute letting his eyes wander down to Donghyuck’s lips. Caught up in the moment Donghyuck tilts his head lightly and Mark meets his lips with no complaints.

  
  


Donghyuck couldn’t care less about the end of the semester and finals coming up. Of course, he still goes to most of his classes like the diligent student he is and takes notes dutifully, but he has to admit most of his attention goes to Mark despite his best efforts.

He just likes spending time with Mark, always has and now, after that first kiss (and second and third and every one that followed), he can barely stop himself from looking down at his phone whenever he isn’t in marketing drawing ugly stick figures over Mark’s carefully drawn diagrams. Besides it’s not like he’s going to fail from his few complaints about the waste of time music history is sometimes and if Mark sends him physics memes once in a while that he doesn’t always understand but laughs at all the same, then that’s no one’s business but his own. 

Usually it’s Mark who makes sure they stay responsible college students. He drags them to the library during lunch more often instead of going on their coffee dates and coaxes him into writing that piece for his composition class. All of that Donghyuck appreciates when they’re not having a nice moment and Mark’s eyes widen slightly before he rolls off the bed to finally fix the code that hasn’t been working. It’s weird, he admits, and Donghyuck feels a little hurt because _really, Lee, that’s what you’re thinking about while pinning me to the mattress?_

It doesn’t matter that much though when Mark smiles as he saves the file one last time before closing his laptop and rubbing his eyes tiredly before coming back to Donghyuck and enjoying a few hours of blissful laziness together.

Of course, it’s not all sunshine and roses.

Sometimes Mark still gets overwhelmed when Donghyuck hugs him from behind while waiting for their food. He flinches when Donghyuck absentmindedly takes his hands when they’re studying at the library in between classes as if his fingers are unwelcomed intruders until he sees that it’s just Donghyuck.

Donghyuck feels conflicted then. Isn’t sure if he should keep holding on or let go and give Mark his space back. Mark doesn’t complain–not ever if you ignore the way he ducks out of his hold, almost flipping Donghyuck off–but it’s hard to figure out boundaries when Mark never really tells him what’s fine and what not.

Donghyuck tells himself to be patient. He’s sure it’ll work itself out.

  
  


A month into their relationship, Donghyuck’s mother approaches him while he’s making breakfast one peaceful Saturday morning.

“You’ve been coming home late a lot these days,” she says and Donghyuck raises one brow at her as he flips the eggs. “And you’ve been staying over at your _friend’s_ house too.”

Donghyuck looks at his sister, who looks away sheepishly. He sighs already knowing where this is going. “What are you getting at, mom?” 

“Nothing, nothing at all. I just want you to know that if you wanted you could bring him over sometime. I’d love to meet the boy that’s been taking up so much of your attention.” 

Even as her words from all those years ago echo in his mind, he can’t help but smile.

  
  


Despite his mom’s words, Donghyuck doesn’t just drop a dinner invitation on Mark. He takes him to meet his sister first. He leaves with her, telling his mother they’re going to watch a movie. They wait for Mark on the parking lot. Dohee plays with her phone, locking and unlocking it under the pretense of checking the time but Donghyuck knows she’s nervous. 

The familiar popping sound of Mark’s bike reaches them over the cars and Donghyuck smiles almost immediately. He’s not sure if Mark is trying to impress his sister or if he’s finally learned to drive slowly when parking. Donghyuck has a feeling it’s the former. 

Stopping in the slot right next to Donghyuck’s beetle, Mark takes off his helmet and greets him with a quick kiss to the cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m late,” he apologizes. 

“Not at all,” Donghyuck grins. Mark is wearing his black leather jacket despite the cold but the sleeves of a grey cardigan peek out from underneath so Donghyuck supposes it’s not all bad. They stand around a bit awkwardly after introductions. Mainly because his sister’s eyes keep going back and forth between Mark and the machine behind him. 

“Yo, you didn’t tell me he has bike. That’s so awesome,” she cries and kicks Donghyuck’s shin, startling Mark. 

“I didn’t know it was important,” he defends himself to no avail.

“Of course it is! I want a ride,” she states and Donghyuck’s about to remind her of her manners when Mark chimes in. 

“I’ll take you if your brother allows it,” he chuckles burying his hands in the pockets of his jacket. 

Dohee looks two steps away from heaven and looks at her brother with big, pleading eyes. 

Donghyuck sighs in defeat. “Sure, as long as you wear a helmet.” He reaches out to take Mark’s hand out of the pocket. Mark intertwines their fingers almost immediately. “Now let’s go the movie is starting in 10.”

  
  


Donghyuck pays for tickets and Mark covers the pizza they get afterwards. Dohee asks him about the blue bruise right underneath his jaw and Mark raises a brow telling her to ask her brother. “Ew, gross,” she replies to that and Donghyuck laughs even though Mark and Donghyuck both know that he wasn’t responsible for that one.

Donghyuck remembers the first time he saw Mark get into a fight. Still shudders at the memory. 

He passed the finish line first and walked over straight to Donghyuck after picking up an envelope from Taeyong. He didn’t tell him what he received from the former redhead–nowadays he rocks a poison green undercut–after every race and Donghyuck never asked but he can guess what it is. 

They were quietly celebrating Mark’s win in each other’s arms when a low rumble behind them interrupted their joy. 

Mark turned to face a six feet muscle bag with a hand prosthesis made out of black steel. 

“You’ll have to tell us what you put into that rusty thing,” he said with a rough, sandpaper like voice. Donghyuck frowned looking back at Mark’s bike and it’s shining engine. He’s seen how careful Mark is to keep it in good form despite its age, that’s why his nails were in godawful shape until Donghyuck suggested he try black nail polish. 

The comment must not have bothered Mark as much as Donghyuck though. He only sighed heavily. 

“I’ll tell you next time, Saw,” Mark smiled but it was all fake politeness. He took Donghyuck’s hand then, ready to leave. 

Not even two steps in, Saw had Mark stop dead in his tracks with that unpleasant voice and a low rumble. “What’s up with you running away like a lil chicken. Too afraid to lose in front your princess here?”

Donghyuck didn’t like the tension spreading from Mark’s shoulders all the way to his calloused fists. He wanted to tell Mark to ignore it and leave, but then Saw decided to open his mouth again. 

Mark’s fist collided with his jaw with a loud _crack_ before he finished that sentence. 

Donghyuck stumbled back and out of the way. Too shocked to react, he could only watch as Mark ducked away from Saw’s right hook to land a kick behind his kneecaps until Taeyong sent a few guys over to break up the brawl. 

“Come on now, Mark,” one of them, a head taller with chestnut brown hair, said. “That’s enough for one night.” 

Mark sent Saw another deadly look and shook the arm around his shoulder off before returning to Donghyuck’s side.

In Mark’s bathroom, he’d tended to his bloody lip and bruised hands. He offered to bring his concealer tomorrow to cover the quickly reddening cheekbone, trying to lighten the mood. Mark took his trembling hands, then kissed him slowly, telling him not to worry.

  
  


There’s no use dwelling on such memories especially when Mark’s been careful to avoid getting bloody noses whenever Donghyuck comes to watch.

Donghyuck watches Mark talk about the history of his bike with a fond smile. He knows Mark struggles starting conversations with strangers but to Dohee, too, it comes naturally. 

After dinner, Donghyuck drives back home alone and watches Mark take off with his sister on the backseat. 

He sees to it that his sister goes in and locks the door behind her, then grabs his bag from the trunk and takes Mark’s spare helmet. 

“Thank you,” he whispers into the night as they lie on the mattress. The moonlight falling through the open blinds gives Mark’s Raven hair a silver sheen. 

“What for?” Mark asks, sleep hanging heavily in his voice. 

“Today.”

Mark sighs, draping an arm over Donghyuck’s waist and burying his head in the crook of his neck. “You have nothing to thank me for. It was important to you.” 

His breath tickles the skin right under Donghyuck’s ear who tries not cry under the onslaught of emotions.

  
  


Donghyuck’s breath forms a misty cloud in the snowy winter air as he steps out of the building after his last class of that semester. He’s exhausted and more than ready for winter break, to which Mark would say _what break? Finals start in two weeks and three days, there’s no time for a break_. Mark’s not here yet to dampen his mood though, so Donghyuck happily opens the door to his yellow beetle and turns on the heating while waiting for his boyfriend. 

He’s taken to driving Mark to and from school whenever their schedules overlap ever since the first snow fell, because he’s heard all the horror stories about accidents during the cold season. He trusts Mark, knows he’s a safe driver despite his tendencies to drive at speed limit, but mother nature is an opponent that shouldn’t be taken lightly and so he convinced Mark to let Donghyuck drive him.

[Lifelines](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DCkbfyk6XGc) ends right when Mark opens the door and climbs on the passenger seat shivering in his hoody and leather jacket. Donghyuck’s told him he’d be cold, this morning when picking him up, but did Mark listen? No, of course not.

Donghyuck grabs the scarf from the backseat and holds it out for Mark to take. He wraps it around himself immediately and buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “You really need to get the heating fixed,” Mark complains, but Donghyuck, clad in a wool hoodie and padded winter jacket, only laughs. 

“Would you wear it if I bought you a winter coat for Christmas?” he asks as he starts the car. 

“Eh, don’t bother," Mark replies, taking out his phone and checking his messages. “They’re too expensive and it’ll get warmer by the end of February.”

“You’ll just freeze until spring?”

“Yup,” Mark says, popping the ‘p’ and turning up the volume of [Nothing Else Matters](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAGnKpE4NCI), only one of the many songs that Mark has added to the playlists on his CDs.

Donghyuck promised his mom to help with dinner tonight and keeps the engine running as Mark picks up his bag before he reaches for the door handle. Mark doesn’t get out though and turns back to Donghyuck. Worrying his lower lip, Mark hesitates to speak what’s on his mind and it makes Donghyuck nervous in turn.

“You don’t have any plans until Christmas, right?” he finally asks and Donghyuck’s shoulders relax. They have talked about winter break before. Mark is taking the train the day after tomorrow to visit his aunt who lives out of town while Donghyuck’s plans consist of sleeping and recharging before finals. God knows he needs it.

“Nothing I can’t cancel,” Donghyuck smiles. He’ll have to disappoint Jaemin who was talking about a get together last week but he feels like this is important.

“Okay, so. Aunt Seo wanted to meet you and asked if I could take you home with me,” Mark says, because he hates beating around the bush. Even when it comes to matters such as _meeting the family._

It’s only fair, Donghyuck thinks, given that Mark has met his sister already and if he’s being honest, he, too, would like to meet the lovely lady who took Mark in after his parents’ accident. 

“Only for a couple of days,” Mark continues, slightly rambling. “I know how weird it is to stay with strangers and you have to study, too. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, obviously. I know it’s kinda, very last minute but–”

The white sky is slowly making room for night’s dark blanket but Mark’s eyes shine so bright in the dim lightning of his car. 

“–it would mean a lot to me.”

It’s a no brainer really.

  
  


Donghyuck’s mother isn’t too pleased about the sudden change of plans. He doesn’t have time to talk her down though. There’s a lot of packing to do and he should vacuum his car before leaving in the morning. His red shirt is missing. Dohee swears she didn’t take it and his mother is too busy making comments about how dangerous it is to go on a trip with someone you barely know. Frustrated, Donghyuck sighs and presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“I’ve never even met him,” she says, not looking up from her cutting board. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Jaemin and Renjun can vouch for him,” Donghyuck replies, slowly taking the knife out of her hand. “And I’ll text you the address, so you’ll know where we’re staying. I trust him, mom, shouldn’t that be enough?”

She rolls her eyes but drops it. “Have you checked the dryer?” she says and Donghyuck presses a peck to her cheek before running off to the basement where he finds his shirt.

It’s midnight when he finishes cleaning his car and drops onto his bed. His syllabi stare at him from the desk. He feels like he should pack some of them to revise, what, with finals approaching, but just the thought makes him uncomfortable and he puts them away into the drawers of his desk. He puts his closed bag next to his guitar before getting ready for bed. 

Going by car instead of train, they don’t have to leave as early as Mark planned and Donghyuck calls him asking if they can delay their departure by another hour. He’s a responsible driver and would rather be fully awake during the drive.

Mark complains with no real passion and complies easily before wishing him a good night.

  
  


Long drives make Donghyuck giddy. Staying focused and sitting on the same seat for an extended period of time is hard enough in the safety of his home. It’s a whole other story on the street, where a small mistake could have unimaginable consequences. 

Waiting in front of Mark’s apartment complex, he stares at the GPS screen. A coffee and green tea stand in the cup holders. They’re slowly cooling down, which has Donghyuck drumming on the wheel, because Mark doesn’t enjoy lukewarm tea, so, why is he taking so long? 

Not even a minute later, the trunk falls closed after Mark drops his bag off and quickly climbs onto the passenger seat. His hair is kempt back exposing his forehead and the frosty wind has painted his cheeks a rosy color. Donghyuck picks up the paper cup and presses it into Mark’s cold fingers, barely biting back a comment about Mark’s inappropriate winter wear. Instead he takes the scarf from the backseat that he left there for that specific purpose and Mark takes it with a grateful smile before greeting him with a kiss.

They fill four hours with music from Donghyuck’s updated playlist. Donghyuck sings along whenever he feels like it–which is almost constantly–while Mark smiles softly enjoying the honey like, sweet voice. And though he doesn’t know the lyrics to [Billie Jean](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zi_XLOBDo_Y) he does belt along to Bon Jovi.

They arrive in front of Mark’s childhood home just before lunch. Mark’s aunt is a petite woman in her early forties. She shares Mark’s full, black hair and high cheekbones and pulls Donghyuck into a surprisingly firm hug. Mark tries to dodge her but can’t escape her. He sends her _A Look_ for the peck on his cheek, but she brushes him off, laughing, to invite Donghyuck in, leaving their bags to Mark. Her sweet laugh fills the hallway as Mark grumbles something behind them and any unease Donghyuck’s felt before disappears into thin air.

Lunch goes over smoothly. Mark’s aunt’s cooking is amazing and she made dishes with mushroom, which has Donghyuck beaming and Mark complaining about favoritism again. He’s coerced into seconds, which he doesn’t mind in the slightest, and then, when they empty all their plates, Donghyuck insists he help with the dishes. Mark assures him he doesn’t have to, not unlike back at home, and Donghyuck smiles at him before sending water drops his way to shut him up, because he gets to hear all about little Mark and his play horse while his aunt puts the leftovers away.

Mark’s old room doesn’t look like it’s changed a lot since he was seventeen. Band posters hang on the walls, some classy, some scary–what’s up with the demons Iron Maiden–and several records stand on display on the bookshelf. Biographies, textbooks and old fantasy novels keep them company. Donghyuck can’t help but think that Mark would’ve gotten along well with his dad.

It hasn’t snowed today, so Mark suggests they use the good weather and have a look around town. Donghyuck offers to take the car, but Mark tells him to take a scarf instead.

The town, covered by a soft, white blanket looks almost etheral. Town square is empty, most people still at work, but decorated in all kinds of colors just like the Christmas tree in the middle. Boutiques display all kinds of gift proposals and Donghyuck thinks it’s a shame he already has one for Mark because some of these look really convincing.

They get hot chocolate and red tea with gingerbread cookies from the bakery before Mark takes the lead, with a promise to introduce him to someone.

They end up in front of a garage. The gate is open and two cars are parked at the front of the shop, one’s missing a wheel and another wears an ugly scratch on the hood. Someone sits at the desk in the office in the back, two people clad in blue, oil stained overalls stand next to a third, elevated car, pointing up and discussing some part or another. 

“Yuta,” Mark calls, lips curving into a faint smile that Donghyuck isn’t sure he’s aware of. The one with the mullet like hair cut turns around, eyes open wide. Pressing the papers in his hand against the other’s chest, Yuta makes his way over and pulls Mark in for a bone crushing hug. 

It’s strange to see Mark so open to affection, but then he learns that Mark’s spent most of his teenage years at the back of the garage–thanks to Yuta’s dad who owned the store at the time–working on his bike and that Yuta has taught him most of what he knows about cars and engines.

Considering how much time both of them must have spent holed up over broken parts together, Donghyuck shrugs the confusion off and goes to introduce himself properly.

Yuta pulls them into the back and Mark joins in on the debate he had with Sicheng about the third car. Donghyuck doesn’t understand much about air pumps and cooling systems, so he decides to check out that boutique, giving Mark time to catch up with his friends.

He already has a present but can’t resist buying a cute vase for Mark’s aunt that would sit lovely on her kitchen’s windowsill. 

Mark comes looking for him just when he steps out of the shop, eyeing the bag and the wrapping paper that sticks out. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, Lee. It’s not for you,” Donghyuck says. He takes Mark’s cold hand and slides it into the wide pocket of his coat.

“Wouldn't dream off it,” Mark replies. He’s still smiling and Donghyuck’s heart skips a beat when Mark takes his hand, wrapping icy fingers around it, and presses a kiss into Donghyuck’s palm.

  
  


Back home, Donghyuck goes to drop off the present in Mark’s room, while the latter joins his aunt in the living room. He returns to her sharing how happy she is they came by car and left _that godawful thing_ behind. Donghyuck can only agree when she begins to worry about him driving his bike in winter. Mark responds with an exasperated eye roll and gets smacked on the head. Twice.

They retire to their room after dinner with pleasant conversation, most of which embarrassed Mark to the core of his soul, but Donghyuck’s never felt happier. The moment he sits down on the bed, Donghyuck reaches for his guitar and tablet. He stares at the device for a second then puts it away and takes out one of the notebooks he stole from Mark and plays, slowly weaving a carefully crafted melody from the happiness that sits warm in his chest.

Mark joins him on the bed. Donghyuck half expects him to take out his notes, but he only lies down and throws an arm around Donghyuck’s waist. 

Donghyuck finishes the chorus and first verse before they hit the lights.

Mark’s bed isn’t big enough for both of them though, so Donghyuck, having drawn the shorter straw, lies down on the futon his aunt brought them. Mark protests, of course he does, but Donghyuck’s having none of it. He promptly shuts him up with a kiss and goes to sleep.

Ten minutes later, Mark crawls under his blanket and hugs him from behind, burying his nose in the crook of his neck.

“You’re a sore loser, Lee,” Donghyuck whispers half asleep.

Mark responds by tugging him closer.

  
  


The days pass quickly with Donghyuck learning little things about Mark, that his aunt tells Donghyuck when Mark’s out grocery shopping or in the shower. Stories from Mark’s childhood, he soaks up like a sponge and studies the picture of Mark’s parents in the living room. He remembers thinking how much Mark looked like his aunt, but he marvels when he sees his mother for the first time. The same almond shaped clear eyes stare back at Donghyuck from within the picture frame every time he passes the fireplace where it hangs. 

The evening before he’s set to leave, they sit in front of the tv, volume low and hot chocolate in their hands. Mark’s aunt asks if it’s too early for baby pictures yet. Mark looks horrified but Donghyuck thinks it’s long overdue. Still, he looks to Mark for permission first because they’ve only known each other for a few months even if it feels much longer than that. Mark seems embarrassed but not completely opposed. 

“I can’t wait to see your pictures,” he says, rolling his eyes, cheeks a flaming red and that’s confirmation enough for Donghyuck.

He leaves in the morning, not as early as before but enough so that he gets home early in the afternoon. His present is tucked away safely in one of the bags and he left Mark’s as well as the one for his aunt on the bed in their shared room. Mark’s aunt, the angel that she is, packed him a piece of the pie she made last night. Enough for the drive and for his family back home. He hugs her tightly, regretting only that he spent so little time here, but he promised his mother to be home for Christmas Eve.

He bids his good byes, promising Mark to come pick him up. His aunt smiles quietly and disappears in the house. Mark blushes slightly.

“You don’t have to. I can take the train,” he says politely, but Donghyuck shrugs him off.

“Sure, but I want to.” Donghyuck kisses him one last time, savoring the feeling of Mark’s fingers around his waist.

He sees Mark staring as he drives down the street, until Donghyuck takes a left turn and disappears from his view.

  
  


Christmas comes and goes. Donghyuck exchanges presents with his mom and sister and goes to his room to unpack Mark’s that’s been sitting in his drawer since he arrived.

He shuffles the small packaging, listening for sounds that might give away what’s hidden inside and carefully rips the wrapping paper off, discarding it on the bed. Donghyuck’s grandma had told him about the first devices that made listening to music outside of the comfort of your home possible. He’s seen Walkmen in history books, Donghyuck just never thought he’d ever own one.

Though clearly manufactured at least three decades ago, the Walkman looks as good as new, freshly painted in yellow, that matches his car. The wired earbuds look delicate, like one of his mother’s necklaces, and are usually worth quite a bit, since they’ve gone out fashion shortly after the pandemic from the beginning of the twenties. 

Donghyuck’s not sure where Mark even found the thing or how it’s still working, but it does. He unwraps the earbuds and puts them, before pressing play and the soft melody of [Missing You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bykFvnRzno) flows into his ears.

He falls back onto his bed; warmth fills his chest and he listens to every song on the tape before calling Mark to thank him and whine about how much his gift sucks compared to Mark’s.

He falls asleep with Mark on the line and the Walkman close to his heart.

  
  


It’s only a week later, when Donghyuck drives up to Mark’s house again to pick him up as promised. Mark looks like he’s feeling guilty, but that’s stupid. Donghyuck volunteered, besides it’s not like he’d ever say no to some quality time with Mark.

His aunt welcomes him just as warmly as last time and insists he at least have lunch with them before getting back on the road. Donghyuck can’t deny her when she looks at him so sweetly and with concern, so he stays for the stew and gets roped into having a piece of the cake she’s baked the evening before.

It’s all fun and games until Mark goes to his room to get his things and comes back to meet Donghyuck in the hallway. The grey tailored coat sits on him like it was made for his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Donghyuck’s mouth goes dry and falls open a little, as his brain tries to remember what to do with the shoehorn in his hands. 

He knows Mark liked his present, they’ve talked it over on the phone, and he’d even seen a picture of Mark wearing it in his aunts bedroom cause it’s the only room with a full body mirror. But Mark, for all his engineering skills, just doesn’t like this era's technology and the pictures were too blurry to really _see_ anything. 

In an effort to not embarrass himself in front of Mark’s aunt, Donghyuck clears his throat. 

“You look– You look good,” he says, but Mark’s aunt raises her brows, a knowing smile curling her lips, and Donghyuck blushes as she pushes a bag of sweets into his hands. 

“For the road,” she explains and wishes them a safe drive. 

Donghyuck waits until she closes the door behind them before pulling Mark in for a long overdue kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't be a silent reader. tell me what you think ♡
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/tyspoorhair)


	3. bad days and heart-warming music

With finals looming over them, they don’t see each other much for the remainder of winter break other than for a few study dates. Donghyuck’s never been one to stress over finals. It’s just another hurdle to overcome and if he fails, then he’ll try again next time. 

Mark, he finds out quickly, has it worse. 

When Donghyuck comes over just past eleven–Donghyuck doesn’t get up before 9 on break unlike _some_ people–Mark’s desk is usually drowning in notes and print outs of his syllabi instead of his designs and three used tea bags are slowly drying in a bowl on the kitchen counter. 

Mark usually greets him with a smile before diving back into his study guides, and Donghyuck makes himself comfortable on the mattress, propping a pillow up against the old radiator. Donghyuck’s not made to sit still for too long though. He usually gets up to fix something quick for lunch a little after noon and manages to drag Mark away from his formulas and unsolved proofs. 

He stays over sometimes if only to make sure that Mark doesn’t mess up his sleep schedule. It’s not easy to get Mark to leave the next chapter of o-chem for tomorrow morning, and things get heated once when Donghyuck asks him to turn off the lights the third time and Mark snaps back some thing or the other only to drop his four-color pen and rub his eyes tiredly and frustrated with himself. Donghyuck only looks at him expectantly and waits for Mark to switch off his desk lamp and come apologize. It’s all forgotten in the morning though and Donghyuck greets Mark with a cup of hot green tea and a bowl of cereal for himself.

Knowing how busy and stressed Mark is the last week before finals, Donghyuck feels uneasy when his mother asks to meet the boy he’s been seeing. 

Bringing it up to Mark isn’t what makes him so nervous about this. The time he met Donghyuck’s sister had been fun and he knows Mark liked meeting Dohee, but his sister also doesn’t condemn leather jackets and bloody knuckles.

Mark hasn’t been to the track often lately though, mainly due to the cold weather but mostly because races on snow-covered tracks pay more, Mark told him, and he got this month’s rent covered. Maybe it was better to introduce him now, while his face isn’t bruised and the infamous jacket sits happily on the chair in Mark’s studio. 

Donghyuck winces at the thought and feels sick to his stomach. It’s not like Mark’s asking for blue eyes and his clothing shouldn’t matter when Mark’s kind and funny and uses cute post-it’s for his notes. Donghyuck’s been to the store with Mark often enough to know that it’s a preference and not a stock issue.

Donghyuck shouldn’t feel the need to hide parts of Mark away, so he pushes all of that aside and asks Mark if he’s free Friday night.

“Only for an hour or two,” he adds quickly. “My mom really wants to meet you.” 

Though reluctant at first, Mark agrees and asks if he should bring anything. Donghyuck smiles at him, ignoring the whispering voices in his head.

  
  


Friday has Donghyuck’s nerves on edge. He preps dinner, while his mother’s at work and helps set the table all the while checking his phone for any news from Mark. Dohee eyes him suspiciously, offering support in the way she mops the floor when he drops his glass of water and hugging him while he does the dishes, losing himself in the whirlwind of thoughts raging in his mind. 

He’s told his mother about Mark before; she’s seen his home screen–the selfie he took one morning when Mark was still asleep by the time he woke up–and _The Talk_ had happened when Dohee was fifteen. Maybe he shouldn’t worry so much and just try to enjoy the evening, but his mother has her views on life and on people and Donghyuck doesn’t agree with all of them. 

When Donghyuck finishes rinsing the last pot, the ring bells. Dohee gets to the door before Donghyuck can, and he’s happy their mother is upstairs still. 

Greeting her happily, Mark quickly steps inside to keep the chilly wind out. Donghyuck’s scarf is wrapped tightly around his neck, disappearing behind the silver zip of his leather jacket. Dohee, playing the perfect host, doesn’t waste a second to take the helmet out of his hand and place it on the shoe drawer by the wall. 

Donghyuck swallows hard. It hasn’t snowed in two days and he should have remembered that Mark would’ve deemed it safe to forgo taking a cab and come with his bike instead, which meant he wouldn’t wear the long coat, Donghyuck got him, because _it’s not practical and would only get dirty_. 

Donghyuck hears light footsteps on the stairs and forces a smile on his face as his mother comes up to greet their guest.

In the dim light of their hallway, things seem to go well enough, but then they leave the comforting darkness and sit down around the table. His mom takes the hot pot off the stove to bring it over, making small talk while rearranging dishes to make them more accessible to everyone. Mark, who took his jacket off while she was busy in the kitchen, keeps his hands in his lap. 

A flash of red catches Donghyuck’s eyes and he tries to look over the table to check the wounds that weren’t there when he left Mark two days ago. He almost asks what happened, can’t remember whether he had another race scheduled this week. All three seem oblivious to his racing thoughts and then his mother sits down, reaching out for Mark’s bowl. 

Mark’s hands shoot forward to pick it up in her stead. Donghyuck thinks he hears Dohee gasps lightly, but all he can focus on is his mother’s falling smile as she fills Mark’s bowl and asks, 

“What happened to your hands?”

Mark doesn’t look fazed by her raised eyebrow and expectant gaze, while Donghyuck’s brain is scrambling together believable excuses. 

“Ah, that. I fell the other day,” Mark lies, feigning embarrassment and rubbing the back of his neck. Donghyuck almost believes him, with how his ears go red. “Some streets are still iced over despite all the salt they’ve been throwing around.”

Donghyuck’s mother doesn’t seem all too convinced but drops it in favor of wishing everyone a good meal. He allows himself to breathe for a moment, but his mom is stirring her food around, watching Mark with hawk’s eyes. Dohee looks around between all three of them silently asking Donghyuck what’s going on, while Mark’s smile becomes strained. 

“What do you do in your free time, then Mark?”

“Well, I–” Marl clears his throat, unease slipping into his posture and hunched shoulders “–I’m usually working on my bike or designs,” he replies, shifting on his seat.

“Motorbikes have gone out of fashion since they’ve started with the autopiloting systems, don’t you think?” Donghyuck’s mother rests her head on the palm of her hand, that _look_ never leaves her face. 

“I don’t really use my autopilot. I think it takes away from the experience,“ Mark says, picking up his spoon to keep his hands busy.

“It also adds a layer of safety to the experience–“

“I don’t drive with autopilot either, mom,” Donghyuck chimes in, shifting the attention from Mark, who looks like he’d rather get the fuck away from his mother’s drilling eyes and Donghyuck doesn’t blame him for it. “Remember?” Donghyuck’s dad didn’t build it in when he changed half of his car’s engine and Donghyuck didn’t bother paying to get it done, not when the car accident rate had been on a steady decline since 2036.

His mother snaps to Donghyuck, eyeing him for a second, and then drop it luckily. He’s barely allowed himself to breathe, thinking of something to say to bring the conversation to less controversial topics, when his mother continues.

“You mentioned designs. What’s that about?” she asks, voice friendlier this time, the air around them seems to lose some of its weight too.

“It’s just–” Mark looks to Donghyuck, who smiles to reassure him but it comes out crooked and doesn’t help Mark regain his confidence “–sketches,” he says. “Ideas. Of engines and bikes. I’d like to sell my own someday.”

His mother hums quietly. “Opening a business like that isn’t easy in this day and age,” his mother says. Donghyuck dares to think she almost sounds impressed, but her smile loses its warmth as she looks pointedly at Mark’s hands. “Especially when you spend too much time in the wrong circles.”

Dohee drops her pink metal chopsticks and gapes at their mother who keeps smiling Mark’s way. 

“Mom,” Donghyuck warns her, but Mark stops him.

“No, please,” he says, dropping his polite tone “do tell what circles you’re talking about.” He stares back, showing he won’t let her get away with offhand comments like they don’t mean anything.

“I was young once, too,” Donghyuck’s mother replies, sitting up straight. “I knew men like you, who came home with bruises and injuries and thought themselves unstoppable on their bikes and in their cars. People like you are dangerous and, frankly, I don’t know why Donghyuck–”

“Stop it,” Donghyuck intervenes, his usually sweet voice a low warning. “He’s our guest–.”

Mark puts his spoon back down before Donghyck can finish that train of thought and gets up with a slight bow of his head. “I appreciate the invitation, but it seems you’ve already made up your mind about what kind of person I am. And I won’t listen to your opinions about my life choices, especially not when most of them are wrong.”

Despite the awful mood hanging over the table, he winks at Dohee, who looks like she’d rather disappear under the table, and sends Donghyuck a smile before quickly making his way to the hallway. The door falls into its place leaving the family of three in tension-filled air until his mother huffs dismissingly and leans back, arms crossed over her chest. 

“I thought, I taught you better than that,” she begins, but Donghyuck’s had enough of her attitude for one evening.

“What the actual fuck?” he snaps and his sister winces at the curse word slipping out so easily. 

“Don’t talk to me like that,” she calls back, fist landing on the table.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Donghyuck gets up and follows Mark’s steps hurriedly, hoping to still find him outside. 

“Lee Donghyuck come back right this instant,” he hears his mother yell, but Donghyuck grabs his keys and jacket and storms out.

  
  


Mark is long gone by the time he stumbles off the porch, still pulling the white jacket over his shoulders and shivering in the cold evening air. As he starts his car, Donghyuck looks into the house through one of the windows to see his sister fighting with their mother. He feels guilty to have dragged Dohee into this but she knows how to pick her fights and how to win them.

His breath forms white clouds in the space of the car and he really needs to get his heater fixed, if he doesn’t want to freeze to death on the way to his finals next week. That’s a worry for another time though, he needs to get to Mark first and apologize on behalf of his mother. And then again, for the lack of warning signs before dinner.

“I’m so sorry,” is the first thing he says when Mark finally opens the door. Donghyuck doesn’t try to hug him on sight, despite the burning urge, doesn’t even dare to step in for fear of coming to close when Mark might be needing space.

“How she treated you was awful and wrong and I really hoped she wouldn’t do that but– and. And anyway that’s _not_ what I think about you and nothing she said was true. Nothing. Just forget it, please. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” That last bit comes out softer, quieter. His eyes start burning halfway through and his voice gives in to the distress his heart is feeling.

Donghyuck’s not sure if he’s said everything he wanted, but Mark’s eyes soften and he tilts his head slightly before drawing Donghyuck in for a comforting hug. 

It should be the other way around. Donghyuck’s not the one that got insulted by a near stranger, but still, Mark draws circles onto his back as he closes the door behind them.

“I know you don’t,” is all he replies and Donghyuck’s shoulders fall with relief.

  
  


Donghyuck would love to stay at Mark’s place for a little while, but his tablet is back at home and he really doesn’t want to fail any exams this term, not when it’ll only fuel his mother’s view of his “poor choices and bad influences”. 

So he goes back the next morning, doesn’t even try to hide the hickey on his neck, and decidedly ignores his mother, using studying as an excuse to stay in his room as much as possible. It works just fine, but his sister tells him, that she understands his feelings but their mother is hurt by his words and actions. 

Guilt gnaws at his conscience but it’s easy enough to drown it in music theory.

Finals are hell and Donghyuck fights through them with too much coffee and too little sleep. He barely gets to see Mark because he prefers to cram alone. It sucks and the weight of that failed dinner hangs heavily over his shoulders. He understands when Mark doesn’t want to hang out with their friends on Friday nights, but also feels like Mark’s trying to work through things on his own.

They haven’t really talked about anything that night. Donghyuck wanted to, but Mark told him it was fine and then shut him up with a kiss when Donghyuck wouldn’t drop it.

There are, in Donghyuck’s head at least, still unresolved issues hanging between them and they slide closer to the edge with every day of silence on Mark’s side. It’s not that he doesn’t reply, he does, or answer his calls, he rarely misses them, it just feels like Mark’s slipping through his fingers and– God, he hates how stupid he sounds.

Still, he can’t talk sense into himself and his friends’ reassurance does nothing to ease the pit of anxiety boiling in his gut.

  
  


After his last exam, Donghyuck sleeps through the day, only wakes up once around midnight to change out of his wrinkling jeans. He keeps the black hoodie on though and falls back asleep. In the morning he feels like death, exhaustion’s still crawling through his bones. While he waits for his coffee, Donghyuck rests his hand on the smooth surface of the kitchen table. His mother should be at work and his sister in school. The house is quiet save for the gentle hum of the fridge and the brewing sound of the coffee machine. His eyelids are heavy but his body won’t go back to sleep. The silence around him feels deafening and he doesn’t think he’ll bear being alone for another six hours. He texts Mark, asking if he can come over today, before putting two slices of bread into the toaster.

He feels better after a shower and wearing fresh clothes. He throws his bag into the farthest corner of the room before picking up his keys from the nightstand and leaving the house.

Mark greets him with a bedhead and a kiss that’s over before Donghyuck has time to lean in. He almost grabs Mark to pull him back, but the latter is already back on the bed picking up one of his notebooks. Donghyuck sighs but doesn’t say anything. Pulling his shoes off, he goes into the kitchen and puts the kettle on.

Donghyuck crawls under the blankets, as close to Mark as possible without disturbing him to catch some of his warmth. He’s tried to start a conversation with Mark when he was immersed in his studying before but his attempts were always met with absent nods and empty _uh-huhs_. He didn’t let it bother him last week, but Donghyuck isn’t feeling his best and the needy part in him will flip if he hears another _“that’s great, Hyuck”_ so Donghyuck spares himself the misery and takes out his phone and earbuds to watch whatever he finds on his recommended to keep himself busy until Mark makes time for him.

Half an hour in, Donghyuck ends up with his head resting on Mark’s shoulder. He dozes off for a while and wakes up lying on the mattress. Alone, movie still playing and earbuds lost somewhere between the sheets.

Feeling a headache coming, Donghyuck rubs his temples first and eyes second, but it does little to help. Mark moved to his desk and Donghyuck looks at the back of his head for a while, wondering whether it’d be selfish to ask Mark to drop everything for one day and come cuddle with him. He shakes his head, which aggravates the pain behind his forehead.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks getting to his feet, to search Mark’s cupboards for Aspirin.

“Anything’s fine,” is the reply so Donghyuck orders what he’s been craving all week and then orders the food on his phone.

  
  


“It’s greasy,” Mark says, when he joins Donghyuck at the small kitchen table his aunt gave him for Christmas. 

“You said anything was fine,” Donghyuck counters, as he looks up from the fried chicken in his hands, getting defensive even though he didn’t mean to.

Mark sighs and finally sits down. “I guess, I did.”

Donghyuck swallows hard, blinking the pressure behind his eyes away. He eats the one chicken he started then goes to wash his hands. 

“Where are you going?” Mark asks when he sees Donghyuck walking back to the bed.

“Not hungry,” Donghyuck calls over his shoulder. The bundle of nerves in his stomach has filled him up enough already. 

Mark frowns but turns back to his food that, despite his complaint, he eats like a starving man. Probably because he hasn’t eaten since his early breakfast. Donghyuck huffs and buries his head in one of Mark’s pillows pretending the warm blankets are enough to comfort him. 

The day goes by but Donghyuck barely keeps up with the quickly ticking clock hanging over Mark’s piano. He remembers asking Mark to at least come study on the bed. _It’s more comfortable_ , he reasoned but really, he meant, _I feel lonely and you make me feel better._ Mark declined, preferring to stay where he was, and when Donghyuck asked again an hour later, Mark said the bed is too distracting and he won’t get anything done there.

Donghyuck had dropped the topic and rolled around to face the old heater, which was working because he’d turned it on but it did little to melt the lump in his throat.

  
  


He knows Mark needs his peace when he studies but it’s been three hours since the sun’s set behind the skyline and Donghyuck’s went through his playlist for bad days twice. He took care of dinner, too, since Mark wouldn’t but then ate the sandwich Donghyuck made at his desk. He’s been sitting there for half of the day and his back _has_ to be killing him from how much he’s slouching over the desk.

Donghyuck gets up and goes to stand behind Mark. The formula sheets and circuit designs make little sense to him, but he’s never liked science all that much anyway. It has too many rules already set in stone and the classes were too boring, too dry, despite the experiments his teachers showed them. Those he could never see clearly because everyone used to be taller than him and he couldn’t fight his way to the front as a skinny teen, but even when he did manage to catch a glimpse, he never got why it was so important to know how much sodium hydroxide was needed to turn the clear solution pink. 

Mark makes it sound easy half the time when he explains a concept to Donghyuck in words he understands, but then still spends days cramming before exams. 

Donghyuck sighs when Mark ignores his presence yet again and leans in to hug him from behind, hoping to catch his attention. Mark’s shoulders stiffen and the pen hovers over the white of his notebook. 

“What is it?” he asks, wriggling in Donghyuck’s hold as he turns a page and resumes writing. 

“You’ve spent the whole day here, let’s watch a movie,” Donghyuck tries and fails to drag Mark back into bed. 

“I’m not done yet, though.” Mark’s forehead creases, though Donghyuck’s not sure if it’s because of him or the scheme in his textbook.

“You can finish tomorrow.”

“Just give me an hour.”

Donghyuck pouts next to his ear. “You had all day,” he says and pecks his cheek. It was a quick kiss, his lips barely brushed Mark’s tan skin, but it seems to have irritated him a little too much.

Mark drops his pen, pressing his hands flat against the wooden surface. Donghyuck barely has time to step back, when he turns the chair around and fixes Donghyuck with an icy stare, that reminds him of the beginning of the year when Mark used to brush him off like Donghyuck was dust on his shoulder.

“I’m busy, Donghyuck,” he says, voice strained with stress and the faintest hint of anger. “I don’t have the time to entertain you, so can you please leave me alone?”

Silence falls into the space between them. Mark looks out of breath. His shoulders rising with every new breath, eyes slightly wider than usual, and mouth hanging open. He doesn’t look like he regrets raising his voice at him, though, and Donghyuck, contrary to popular belief, knows how to take a hint. Instead of digging his nails further into the palms of his hands and he swallows painfully, blinking the tears lurking in the corners of his eyes away.

“Fine,” Donghyuck says and goes back to the bed by the window to pick up his phone and look for his keys. He hears Mark turning back to the desk and sighing heavily. When Donghyuck silently pulls on his shoes, Mark drops his head into his hands and stays frozen like that until Donghyuck zips up his jacket.

Mark’s head snaps around, so fast, Donghyuck worries he might have pulled a muscle. “Where are you going?” he asks, suddenly getting up.

“Home.”

The raven walks over, frowning again as Donghyuck wraps his red scarf around this neck. “I thought you’re staying over.”

“Changed my mind,” Donghyuck finishes with his gloves and turns away from the framed painting next to the door that he used as a mirror.

“It’s late, you should stay.”

Donghyuck can’t help but snort at the irony of the situation. He likes to think Renjun is the petty one out of their group of friends, but can’t stop himself from saying, “Yeah, well, you’re busy and I don’t want to bother you.” 

Mark looks down, regret creeping onto his face like a shadow. “You know I didn’t mean that.” 

Donghyuck, for as much as he loves to joke around and prank people, hates conflict, but he’s had a shitty day and can’t help but let his thoughts go wild after keeping them under lock for so long. “Did you? Cause it sure felt like that. I know you don’t have time that’s why I left you alone but it’s past nine and I thought spending some time together might have been good for both of us. If you didn’t want me here while you study you could’ve just said so.” 

Mark squirms under Donghyuck’s narrowed eyes. He knows Mark lashed out without thinking. Donghyuck’s aware he can be annoying and clingy but he thinks he gave Mark enough space throughout the day and isn’t wrong to want an apology.

Mark opens his mouth a few times but then closes it without saying anything every single time. Donghyuck sighs, shoulders hunched. “Look, I’m tired,” he says defeatedly. “I’ll just go home.”

Mark clenches his fist and still looks like he wants to say something, but he only nods and sends him off with a _be careful_ and _text me when you get home_.

It’s only when he’s standing on the porch of his house, that Donghyuck realizes he really doesn’t want to explain his red eyes and the irritated scowl on his face to his mother.

  
  


He managed to slip into his room, just barely escaping another debate with his mom, and fell into his bed the previous night. In the morning, he walks down the stairs, forgetting his mother doesn’t have to go to work until noon, and finds her fiddling in the kitchen. The coffee machine hums softly and the oil in the pan sizzles. Any other day, the sight would’ve been comforting. Today his mother raises his brow at him, Donghyuck knows the question before she asks it.

“Weren’t you staying with your boyfriend tonight?” 

Donghyuck resists the urge to roll his eyes at the mocking in the word _boyfriend_. “I wasn’t feeling well,” he lies and goes to inspect the contents of the fridge that don’t seem to have changed much since yesterday.

“Did something happen?” The concern in her voice would’ve been sweet if Donghyuck didn’t know she was waiting for an opportunity to write Mark off as the delinquent she probably thinks he is. 

“No,” Donghyuck lies again. The slice of cheese he stole off the counter tastes bitter but they opened that package yesterday and it can’t be bad yet. He checks the slice he’s eating. Doesn’t find any mold on it.

“I can see your upset,” his mother tries again, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “what did that boy do?”

Having finished his cheese, Donghyuck turns to her. “His name is Mark and he didn’t do anything.” It’s not technically true, but he’s not about to disclose Mark’s one shortcoming to her. “We fought. People do that, but I assure you it has nothing to do with the fact that he wears a leather jacket.”

Crossing breakfast off his to-do list, Donghyuck goes to leave the room and maybe try to sleep for a little longer.

“You know that’s not what my problem with him is.”

Donghyuck stops by the doorway. “No, mom, your problem is that he doesn’t fit into the row of people you approve of.” He faces her because even if they disagree on this one thing, she’s still his mother and she deserves the courtesy of being looked at when spoken to. “I’ve stayed with his aunt for three days and not once has she judged me by my appearance and you couldn’t do Mark the same favor for two hours.”

Maybe he’s finally getting through to her, because Donghyuck’s mother lowers her defensive stance, letting her hands fall to her sides.

“I’m not comfortable with you being involved with him.’

Donghyuck sighs, the worry on her face has his heart twisting a little. “You don’t have to be comfortable, mom,” he says softly. “It’s me he’s dating and he treats me right and makes me happy.”

She nods once, then turns to the pan she’d taken off the stove. Donghyuck smiles at the breakthrough, but it’s dimmed because he doesn’t feel like he can drive over and share it with Mark.

  
  


Donghyuck doesn’t reach out to Mark for the remainder of the week. “He’s busy”, he tries to reason. Jeno sees right to his bullshit and Renjun tells him to stop wallowing in self-pity and man the fuck up. It’s strange to fall asleep without Mark’s steady breath and occasional hums in his ear but he can’t bring himself to press the call button, instead looks for comfort in the songs on his Walkman.

He doesn’t usually dwell on what people tell him. He knows to some he’s too loud, grabbing for attention and he heard one girl say once that his sense of humor comes at the expense of others. But Donghyuck knows who he is, and those that matter do too. Having a thick skin, Donghyuck’s faced his songs being ripped apart by teachers and producers alike, but then he’d just sit down and write another melody.

Mark’s words keep ringing in his head like an alarm he can’t turn off. They barely text, cause when they do it feels forced. _I don’t have the time to entertain you_ swims around before his eyes, above Mark’s texts and he stops typing his reply.

He does ask how his last exam went and smiles when Mark goes onto a rant about the teacher’s stupid formulation of their questions. They both have the rest of the week off and usually, Donghyuck would be making plans but he can’t bring himself to ask Mark if he’s up for a trip to the movies.

The day after, Mark asks if Donghyuck wants to come over. It catches him a little off guard, but Donghyuck agrees, though warily.

Mark says he’ll pick him up, despite Donghyuck warning him that his mother would be home. _Doesn’t matter_ , reads the reply and it warms Donghyuck’s heart a little.

He shows up an hour later. Donghyuck opens the door to a small bouquet of white and pink roses. “Are those for me?” Donghyuck asks, but his hopes get crushed the second Mark shakes his head. 

“Where’s your mom?” 

Donghyuck’s eyes widen comically, but his mother is already coming into the hallway.

“You bought my mom flowers?” he mouths at his boyfriend. Mark only shrugs.

The whole deal is awkward. Mark starts with “I believe we got off on the wrong foot” and Donghyuck’s mother’s judgmental brow is at work again, but she takes the flowers, even throws a thank you in there before leaving both boys to themselves. Donghyuck’s too blown away to react until Mark nudges him to get ready.

By the bike, Mark stops him and then a single rose appears out of nowhere. Donghyuck stares at the blood-red flower, trying to keep a smile off his face. He shouldn’t let him off so easily, but how can he not when Mark’s clear eyes are looking for forgiveness so earnestly. 

“Let’s talk once we get home?” Mark suggests and Donghyuck nods taking the flower out of Mark’s cold hands.

Mark’s studio is a little messier than usual. Dishes stand in the sink and the bed’s undone. It doesn’t look like he’s had time to clear his desk or the adjacent area of his scattered note- and textbooks.

“Entropy,” he says as he suddenly remembers high school chemistry. Mark’s confused for a second then follows Donghyuck’s pointer to the mess that is his desk and scoffs, jokingly. “Entropy is less about disorder and more about the irreversibility of transformations,” he begins explaining but then that’s too much science, and Donghyuck’s quick to shut him up with his own lips.

He doesn’t really care, is just glad to be back, and loses no time claiming the blankets as he crawls into bed. Mark follows him, still recovering from the short but heated kiss. They sit in silence and, unlike last time, it doesn’t feel loaded, now that Mark’s reached out to him, seemingly wanting to fix things. So, he waits for Mark to begin, giving him time to collect his thoughts. 

“I didn’t want to make you feel like you’re a bother,” Mark says eventually, playing with the baby blue blanket on his lap. “I’m sorry, that I did. It was wrong and I shouldn’t have said that.”

Donghyuck spots a few new wounds on his hands and reaches out to hold them between his own. “You should start taking better care of yourself,” he sighs, shivering from the icy touch and turns to Mark. 

Mark smiles, eyes gleaming mischievously. “But I have you to kiss it better.” 

Donghyuck drops his hands as if burnt. “Who are you and where’s my Mark,” he jokes, then leans in to kiss him again anyway.

It’s easy to forget the world outside when Mark holds him so gently and carefully. A feeling blooms in his chest, warm and all-consuming. Donghyuck feels like he could spend half of eternity holed up in the small flat, with Mark pressed close to him on the makeshift bed with view of the starless city sky and he still wouldn’t miss out on much.

Ignoring the world outside, pretending it can’t get to them in here hasn’t worked the first time around and would catch up to them soon enough if they don’t get rid of the baggage of their fight. Donghyuck’s the one to move away first. He rolls off Mark to lie on his side, hoping the little space would help to start the conversation back up. Mark’s hand slides under his hoodie to draw circles into his warm skin. The touch sends chills up his spine and it tickles ever so slightly, but Donghyuck pretends it doesn’t distract him.

“There’s something else we need to talk about,” he manages to say between breaths as he tries not to curl away from Mark’s fingertips. 

Mark sighs at that, retracting his hand, that seems to have stolen some off Donghyuck’s warmth. “I don’t want to fight your mother,” Mark says, suddenly, leaving the brunette feeling conflicted.

Donghyuck’s aware he doesn’t _have to_ deal with his mother. Not when she’s as good as insulted him and barely welcomed him in her house. However, he also doesn’t think, he’s wrong for wanting the two of them to get along.

“I know and you don’t have to,” he begins but Mark cuts him off quickly.

“But I want to convince her she’s wrong about me.”

Donghyuck’s mouth falls open at which Mark raises his brows and gently pushes it back closed with his pointer and middle finger. 

“Is that what the flowers were about?” Donghyuck laughs with relief.

“I have to start somewhere and it seemed like a safe choice,” Mark shrugs.

“You don’t have to fight her. She’ll come around eventually.”

“I hope so,” Mark smiles softly, nudging Donghyuck closer.

  
  


Spring brings blooming trees and warm sun showers. Classes start back up and their teachers jump right into new subject matters, leaving Donghyuck wondering why he even bothers with education anymore. 

The smell of cherry blossoms inspires him enough to finish the song he’s started just before Christmas. His mother softly shakes her head when she listens to it but helps him find an empty CD anyway. When he blasts it in his car while he picks Mark up for their evening plans, Mark frowns at first when he hears Donghyuck’s sweet, feathery voice resound from the crackling speakers. The confusion in his eyes clears soon enough when he picks up the lyrics about the little things that Donghyck’s learned to love about him and Mark covers half of his face when the last notes fade out.

Donghyuck didn’t mean to make him cry on his birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. i wasn't planning on uploading the last part today bc i have a shit ton of work to do. but i received so many sweet comments and it pushed me to sit down and edit it to get the ending out tonight. i'm kinda nervous about it cause there's some angst in here and i'm not the best at writing conflict haha. still i hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> this fic has been a wild ride (pun mayhaps intended). it started back in may when my dad showed me _harley and the davidsons_. and then there was this feeling, this vibe, that i needed to explore. i didn't have a real plot at first (happens a lot with my fics these days smh) but the scenes were just flooding my head. faster than i had time to write mind you. i didn't plan for it to be this long. it's the longest finished fic i have so far and i was really done with it by the end. i just wanted it to be fucking over already even though i really loved the idea when i was just starting out. maybe writing long fics just isn't my thing.
> 
> anywayy... honestly, i almost made this a kiribaku fic but then mark in punch happened and all the leather sealed the deal. mark was obviously inspired by the characters from the movie (and myself. where do you think the engineering shit comes from? my suffering. that's where) and in case you didn't notice.. i bull shitted my way through hyuck'a music degree cause i know nothing about that major and google was my source for most of it. any complaints go out to my best buddy. 
> 
> then i had to think about donghyuck who is a very bright, bubbly person and i fell in love with the idea of them contrasting each other in everything but still ending up together. i hope i was able to convey the feeling properly and if not, well, i'm still learning right? 
> 
> that being said...your comments made me appreciate this fic again for what it is and now i'm a little sad it's over. can't believe posting this has made me more attached to it than actually writing it smh but i don't think i'll ever forget how excited i was to write these versions of mark and donghyuck. i do love them despite the headaches they've brought me.
> 
> thank you for all the love you've shown this fic. i pour a little bit of myself into my writing and your support got me through a kind of, really shitty day.
> 
> i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tyspoorhair) if you wanna chat ♡
> 
> ps: i kinda messed up the entropy scene it was supposed to come later, i'm sorry about that and also this is based heavily on the way college works where i live which is not the us (or south korea for that matter). if there was any confusion then i apologize for that too. stay away from people, wear masks and take care!!


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